


the flowers that you gave me, they're poisonous

by gerskier



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Hades & Persephone au, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), M/M, geralt is hades, i have a problem ok, jaskier is persephone, lots of stuff are based on percy jackson, not edited we die like witchers, strap in boys, this is gonna be a mess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:34:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22561825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gerskier/pseuds/gerskier
Summary: "You are in the Underworld." A small movement shifted the figure's hood, like they were tilting their head. "You're a god, aren't you?"Jaskier nodded absentmindedly. He'd only heard stories of the Underworld, of its torture and ruler, Geralt. Every god knew to never cross him for his rage could be worse than Calanthe, Queen of the gods. (However, anyone who said so would be smote in an instant.) Never had Jaskier dreamed of visiting the Underworld, no matter the reason.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 5
Kudos: 51





	the flowers that you gave me, they're poisonous

**Author's Note:**

> title from "flower power! (the leading cause of gum disease" by bears in trees.
> 
> i haven't written a chaptered fic in quite a while, so please be nice. this is also not edited, but will be once i finish writing it

Out somewhere on the Continent, a young god was picking flowers with his nymph friends. He was currently braiding dandelions into a flower crown, his fingers working fast. Even though he could instantly do the task with his magic, he highly preferred to take the time to do it with his hands instead.

"Jaskier!" one of the nymphs said as she bounded toward him. She was a dryad, a wood nymph. Her skin was a soft, light green and would've clashed with her curly orange hair if the shades were different. Her amber eyes shone with happiness. "We're going about twenty yards away—there's a flower that Tithorea really wants to see! We'll be back soon, okay?"

Lips widening into a smile at the excited dryad, he nodded. "I'll stay right here! Tell me about it once you return."

The dryad burst into a grin and returned the nod as she ran back the way she came. There was squealing, clearly from the nymphs, and the sound of footsteps leading away from the god.

Nimble fingers finished the braided crown and Jaskier set it carefully upon his light brown hair. He closed his eyes as a gentle breeze blew across the valley, rustling the grass and flowers around him. To humans, the sun might be a nuisance, but to Jaskier it felt as though it were a lifeline. 

As he basked in the sun, he hummed out a tune he remembered from a mortal tavern. It was slow and gentle, perfect for the day. Time seemed to stop and it took Jaskier a few moments to realize the grass had stopped moving. The wind was gone, and gray clouds were beginning to cover the sun.

Confused, the god ran his hands over his bare arms. The air was colder than he'd ever felt, and he could see his breath.

"Winter can't be here already," he mumbled to himself as he glanced around. There was no noise from the direction his friends had gone. He feared the worst, for them and himself.

Before he could stand, there was a loud noise that caused him to wince and cover his ears. A crack appeared in the grass and quickly moved to surround him. He gasped and his eyes went wide. He felt the ground cave in and he was falling, flower crown leaving his head. He screamed as loud as he could before the ground swallowed him up.

The clouds parted and revealed the sun. Wind came back and rustled the grass once more. The nymphs returned, cheeks red from laughter and happiness.

"Wait!"

The green-skinned dryad had thrown her arms out to block the nymphs behind her. They remained silent as she knelt to the ground and picked something up. Hands shot to mouths as she stood up shakily.

In her hand was the dandelion flower crown.

– – –

Falling through the air was...certainly interesting. The air remained cold until, from what Jaskier assumed, he was close to the bottom of the hole. He peered below and let out a shriek when he could see the ground coming closer and closer. His eyes shut tightly as he braced for the inevitable.

Only, it didn't happen.

He opened one eye, then the other. He'd never seen the place where he was. It was hot, dark, and humid. A river glowed faintly a few feet away from him. In the distance, a castle rose, gates surrounding it. There were fields upon fields, a shimmering island, and a large mass of...something moving nearby a much shorter mass.

With a yelp, Jaskier fell the three feet or so to the ground. His head hit the strange dirt beneath him and his vision went black for a second. It came back pretty quickly, and he sat up to look around more. He didn't notice a figure coming toward him in the river until he was parallel to him.

"Hello," a deep voice said. The figure's face was impossible to see, as it was under a black hood. They were clothed in a black robe that looked as though it'd been eaten by moths for centuries.

"Where am I?" Jaskier asked. His throat hurt from screaming earlier, but he held back a wince.

"You are in the Underworld." A small movement shifted the figure's hood, like they were tilting their head. "You're a god, aren't you?"

Jaskier nodded absentmindedly. He'd only heard stories of the Underworld, of its torture and ruler, Geralt. Every god knew to never cross him for his rage could be worse than Calanthe, Queen of the gods. (However, anyone who said so would be smote in an instant.) Never had Jaskier dreamed of visiting the Underworld, no matter the reason.

The figure stretched out a bony hand, to which Jaskier stumbled to his feet to grab. Only once he was on the strange boat could he see the figure's face. He was a tall, dark-skinned man who resembled a skeleton too much. His eyes were empty and unnerved the god.

"My name is Charon," the man said. "I will guide you to the line. After that, I am unsure of your fate."

"What line?"

As he began rowing, he pointed to the shorter mass. They grew closer and Jaskier realized it was the line Charon mentioned—a line of dead mortals.

"I'm not a mortal, though!" Jaskier said.

"You are not to join the line. Someone waits for you."

Jaskier rolled his eyes at the man's vagueness. His words about his fate were making him more and more worried the closer they grew to the line. He could see someone facing them, waiting. They were too far away to see who it was, but he could just _feel_ the anger radiating off them.

After a bit, Charon stopped the boat. "This is your stop." He stared at the god as he carefully got off, and placed a steady hand on his shoulder, leaning to whisper in his ear. "Be careful. You never know what he might do." Then he leaned back and began rowing away.

Jaskier watched him leave, wishing he could go with him rather than deal with whatever was to come. The person clearing their throat made him turn to them. It only took one look to realize just who he stood before.

The long, white hair. Intense, golden cat-like eyes. A tall, strong build. The crown made of bones on his head and black velvet cape on his shoulders.

"Hello," Jaskier said meekly.

The god of the Underworld only hummed, whirling around and cocking his head to the castle that stood in the distance. He didn't bother checking that Jaskier was following before walking away.

As Jaskier rushed to catch up with Geralt's long legs, he noticed how many of the mortals in the line either ducked away from the other god or reached out for him. It was interesting to see in person how mortals reacted to gods; he usually attempted to stay away from them, which wasn't so hard when his mother kept a close eye on him. 

Somehow, he managed to stay silent the entire way to the castle. He kept his eyes trained on the ground until he noticed Geralt stop. They were just outside the gates, which were engraved with shifting pictures of death. They towered high and were guarded by two zombies in differing uniforms, who stepped aside as the pair of gods drew close. The gates creaked open, allowing Jaskier to view the inside.

It was a challenge to both look around and follow Geralt, which he barely managed to do. His mouth was open and eyes were wide as he took in everything he could. The place was strangely beautiful, dead flowers and trees decorating the courtyard. It looks as though it had not been taken care of in some time; the plants were overgrown and roots broke up the clearly less-taken parts of the paths.

A gentle hand on the small of Jaskier's back startled him and his head whipped up to look at Geralt in confusion. The god did not return the look, instead carefully guiding him inside the castle. It was made of black stone, resembling one from the mortal world. 

However, the inside was much different. The floors were made from a strong, black wood that didn't cause Jaskier to feel like he might fall through them. The interior design reminded him of many of the mortal castles he'd visited, only much darker. It was still quite pleasing on the eyes and not too overbearing. There were two zombie guards standing on either side of each of the doorways, holding different weapons.

Geralt led him past a pair of the dead men, who Jaskier had a tough time staring in the eye. They walked down a long hallway and only stopped when they reached a set of double doors (which had two zombies guarding them, of course).

As soon as they were inside and the doors were shut, Geralt finally spoke.

"Please, sit." He gestured to a plush chair.

There was something in his voice that caused Jaskier to obey; it could be the amount of authority his words were soaked in, or possibly the deepness of it that.

"I apologize for your visit," the god said. "You should not be here. I assume my... apprentice played a prank on the both of us. She does that often, as she believes I need companionship."

"Do you?" Jaskier couldn't stop himself from asking. The glare Geralt sent him seemed to force him back into the chair.

"I do not. I am fine here, alone. You needn't worry yourself with that, as you have more important things that should be on your mind. Calanthe will not be kind once she hears the news."

Jaskier nodded, his eyes lowering to his hands as he fidgeted with the end of his tunic. His father would not do well, as Calanthe had already made it known she wanted nothing motherly to do with Jaskier; that resulted in his father bringing him up on his own. 

Geralt did not seem to notice his shift i. mood. "We must bring you back to the rest of the gods as soon as possible. Unless you are a god of the Underworld, it is tricky to leave. While you are here, do _not_ consume anything. Understand?"

"Yes."

The god hummed. "I will assign you a butler. This will be your room until we figure out a plan. If you need me, just ask."

When Jaskier cast his eyes up, he was alone in the room.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments of all kinds are always welcome! thank you for reading :)


End file.
